Aunt Ari
by Meenie Mo
Summary: Series of one-shots based around her relationship with Cobb and his family, and their interesting attempts at making globs of  inedible  spaghetti. Rated T for language. No slash.


Aunt Ari

AN: Reviews/Crit appreciated. Warning for language. Story will be a series of one-shots, of Ariadne's relationship (platonic) with Cobb and his family. Set post-Inception. Characters are a little OC.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Nolan, in his infinite greatness for creating Inception. Rock on xx

Chapter 1: Messy Spaghetti is Messy

The phone rang.

"WHY does the Godda…Gosh darn phone have to always ring?" Cobb exploded, flinging bits of spaghetti sauce everywhere as he tossed the spoon in the air. He huffed in frustration, glaring down at the bubbling ooze of tomatoes as if they had personally offended them with their uncooperative goopy-ness. The phone rang on, ignorant of Cobb's raising temper.

Phillipa and James sat on the ground outside, where Cobb could easily see them playing in the new sand box he had gotten them last week. He watched, fascinated as Phillipa helped guide James's tiny hands into crafting impromptu towers of sand. They constructed beautiful towers in the ground, blocks and spirals and mounds of tiny worlds.

It was therapeutic, he thought, to watch his children build their own tiny worlds. With a measure of pride, he smiled as James, not yet six, crafted intricate details with his minute fingers, poking holes here and there as windows.

The phone rang again.

"FU-" he cut himself off, taking a deep breath. Adjusting to life as a father again, one that DIDN'T drops F-bombs in front of his children, was proving to be a bit of a challenge, not that he regretted a single moment of it.

Wiping his spaghetti-stained hands on his Pillsbury dough boy apron, he glared at the caller id, half-tempted to just not pick up when he didn't recognize the number. The only person to really have any reason to call was Miles. Cobb glanced quickly at the clock on the wall. 5:30pm, which would be around 10:30 in Paris. Not likely. He picked up anyway.

"Who is this?" he growled, pushing sweaty hair out of his eyes. Though the temperature in the house was a comfortably cool 72, he had spent the majority of the last hour and a half running from the refrigerator and cabinets back to the stove, trying to add in the right ingredients at the right time. He had never been the best cook.

"Hey Cobb." The voice was female, youthful and sweet, and he stared at the phone, bewildered for a moment, thinking that the caller must be some marketing lady.

"No, sorry, I'm not interested in buying any products…"

"Well, I wasn't about to sell you any. But now, come to think of it, do you know of any good computer programs that can do architect stuff? I'm sick of having to hand draw everything, or going to the school every time I need to input work and such. Why did I pick architecture? Why couldn't I have picked something like, oh, I don't know, literature, or something? I mean, don't get me wrong, but… God, Cobb. I'm so tired." She mumbled, yawning into the phone.

"Ariadne?" He laughed in surprise, a smile lighting his face. "Good to hear that university life is treating you well. Hopefully Miles isn't being too hard on you guys?"

"Yeah, although I can say I've had more coffee in the last 3 days than I've had in my entire life."

He laughed again, remembering how he had worked as a student. 3-6am had always been his prime time. "Busy with your studies, huh? What else has been going on? And how's Arthur doing? Haven't heard back from him since…in a while." He couldn't bring himself to say Inception – the word still sent a shudder down his spine. After the job, Robert had divided his company, and spent the rest of his money in various other things, draining the remains of his vast money recklessly. He had been found dead not two weeks later, from a drug overdose. Browning had been given the rest.

"Dunno, last I heard, he was running point for some other dude." She muttered.

"Oh? I thought he had decided he had enough to stay in Paris for a little while. He told me he's always loved the city there."

"Well I wasn't even aware that he was capable of loving."

"…What?"

"Huh? What? Oh nothing. I don't know, I'm really tired."

"No, what was that you said about loving?" Cobb said, eyebrows raised in half amusement, half horror. "Don't tell me that you've…Ariadne, you're too young to be…you're like my daughter and you need to know that…" he trailed off lamely, at a loss for words.

"…Yeah, school's been really busy and stuff…I was actually wondering…if you could possibly do me a favor?"

"No way you're being let off the hook that easily, Ari! Tell me, why isn't he staying in Paris anymore? What happened with you two?" Cobb insisted, pinching the bridge of his nose in worry. "Arthur seemed really stressed after the job, and I was hoping that he could get some rest before he started doing extractions again, IF he ever started doing extractions again. Saito seems happy enough to pay for the rest of our lives. He's certainly got enough money to."

"You've known Arthur longer than I have, Cobb. He loves working, and the crazy nutcase loves the feeling of being exhausted." She sighed ruefully, and he could feel her slump into a couch. "He doesn't need any reason to work, besides the joy of working itself. I mean, does he even look like the type of guy who could possibly settle down? Of course, not that I'm suggesting settling down, I mean, I never did. He's just one of those guys who likes to stay in perpetual motion, you know what I mean? No rest for the wicked I guess."

Cobb huffed, knowing that what she said was right. For Arthur, it probably wasn't even physically possible to be settled. He was constantly in action, doing something, or thinking about something.

"Well…just check up on him every so often, ok? He worries me."

"…Not like I have his phone number anymore."

"WHAT?"

"What?" she snorted defensively, "I'm not his mother, I'm not going to baby-sit him, and ask him what jobs he's doing, and when he's going to come back to visit Paris, of when he's going to go and visit you, or when he's going to even give a fuck about ANYTHING besides him and his damned work…" She broke off, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself before continuing. "And even if I did get his number, he'd just change it again."

"Jesus…Ari, what happened between you guys?" Cobb murmured, more than a little worried. From the sound of it, their fight had been of some size, if he was willing to change his phone number, and not give her the new one. Arthur changed his number every few months anyway, just in case he was ever being tailed, the paranoid bastard, but Cobb knew he always programmed his and Miles's number, and, as of late, had also been programming and giving Ariadne his number.

"Don't wana talk about it."

"You sure? I mean, maybe I can give it to you from a guy's perspective?"

"Uh….maybe some other time."

An awkward silence passed over them, before Cobb coughed, looking toward the un-delightful mess on his kitchen table.

"Er, well, Ariadne, I'd love to continue this conversation, but I've got my hands a bit full right now, so is there anything else you needed?"

"OH, yeah, almost forgot, I was wondering if you would do me a HUGE favor?" she asked, her voice lifting with hope. Cobb narrowed his eyes.

"If you're asking me to do anything with going under with you to look at dreamscapes, the answer is no. I mean, not that I wouldn't love to look at one you made, you're brilliant. But I'm retired. I don't need to dream now that I'm living the best one I could ever had." Cobb looked out the window again, as if to check that James and Phillipa were really still there. They were.

"Oh. Well, actually, yeah, that was part of the question. But I understand that you don't want to do it anymore. That's ok. Could I have you take a look at some of my hand drawn architecture stuff?"

Cobb ran a hand over his face, suddenly becoming reminded of late nights working on incredibly difficult floor plans and sighed, feeling sympathy override his initial unwillingness.

"….sure, why not. But I'm letting you know right now that I am NOT here to do your homework for you, got it? And why do you need my help, is Miles not helping?" Cobb asked.

"No, no, he's great! It's just, I want to impress him with this sketch, and I don't want him to see it because I want it to be a surprise." He could hear her smile over the phone, and couldn't help a small smile himself, remembering feelings of power and awe when constructing. It was no wonder she was an architect.

"Yeah, fax them over. When do you need them by?" he asked, glancing at the calendar. The only time he would really be able to work on it would probably be…after James and Phillipa were in bed. He tried to contain another sigh.

"Um…in 8 hours."

Cobb couldn't contain himself.

"FUCK!"

No matter how good he was at constructing dreams, Cobb had decided, once he'd seen Phillipa and James again, that he wouldn't touch a PASIV for the rest of his life, no matter _how _tempting it was, or _who_ was involved. As selfish as it was, he was not risking never seeing his kids again, or worse, somehow accidentally introducing them to a world that wasn't real.

"Tell me first and I'll decide. But if it has anything to do with dreaming, the answer is no." he said firmly.

"Oh, no, no, nothing of that sort. I've been working on sketches and such, and I was wondering if you could, possibly, if you had enough time, but it's ok if you don't, if you could take a look at them for me?" She rushed out.

He laughed


End file.
